Re: Alfred's Odd Ode #186

From: Alfred Lehmberg <Lehmberg@snowhill.com>
Date: Wed, 01 Oct 1997 07:17:40 -0500
Fwd Date: Wed, 01 Oct 1997 12:30:42 -0400
Subject: Re: Alfred's Odd Ode #186
Apology to MW #186 (For October 1, 1997)
A year ago I sent a pulse; it's now so far from here=85
A whispered little signal perhaps too faint for us to hear.
A small twelve lines of quatrain in a heartfelt, honest style --
Away some five point eight five nine, times ten to the twelfth, odd
miles.
Six trillion miles it now has flown in inky coal black space!
Who knows what stuff it passed right by, in heedless headlong race.
The comets of antiquity breathing star stuff as they die;
Their tales growing longer as they use our sun to fry?
I can hope for gainful contact as the sphere grows ever larger.
It quadruples as the radius of it doubles with my ardor.
Four times the space encompassed at around this time next year.
One year from now and if things change=85a feeling I won't fear.
One year from now, with damaged children, teaching long division.
I only hope I'm there to teach without my own attrition.
It could be that by that time they've found a way to listen,
And understood, they seek me out to tell me what I'm missing.
Just what we need, a space man's visit, to put the world on notice.
We're not alone, we're being watched -- from way back they can quote us.
Names are named, actions tallied, the hard facts on a list.
A few have had their way too long -- they're likely to get pissed.
And still my message hurries at the solemn speed of light.
It is swimming passed near asteroids like a dolphin of the night.
Composed of cryptic pulses and some thinking I hold valid,
It lifts its eyes with questions, and it understands the squalid.
A vibration in the ether, it's as true as bursting suns.
It's for ending all the ignorance that has had us on the run.
It's for holding up its end, and taking on 'the man'.
For a truer view of that which is, we had better understand!
It swims with other messages of different kinds of stripe.
In Tom Van Flandren's ether it eschews the common tripe.
It hooks and jabs, the gloves come off -- it goes right for the throat.
It needles and it bickers, and it tries to get your goat.
The rage you feel at my expression is just a ratio of degrees.
It's pride before a fall, mayhap, when you skin your knobby knees.
A measure of your rage is sure and well within your sight.
The degree to which you're pissed, perhaps=85 the degree to which I'm
right?
And it's not being right that I say is the issue.
And maybe you see me eye dabbing with tissue.
But fairness is lacking in what we must trust.
Our synergy is lost; we can't parry; we can't thrust!
Our species devolves, and we lose some more light.
We wallow in excess, we are gelded with spite.
We lose the proud gains of a billion year history!
We return to our caves, eating tree bark in misery.
This is true while single men could turn it all around.
This is true while naked wealth is laying on the ground!
This is true as cosmic signals inflate their globes in space,
This remains whatever happens to our dust mote, petty race.
Lehmberg@snowhill.com
On a CB rig -- "breaker breaker" -- a year almost to the day -- twelve
lines on a lark that still rush outward at the speed of light, time
forever frozen for it -- 5. 859 x 10 ^12 miles (almost 6 trillion miles)
away in an expanding bubble. The volume of it quadruples every time the
radius doubles=85whatever could have heard it? I don't think space has the
sterility that some would have for it, do you?
Other expressions I have made on the radio include, "Cease fire," and
"This is chalk two, I need rockets in the tree line, now." This was back
in a simpler, darker time when I was trying to sound like Chuck Yeager,
and had dreams of being an astronaut=85
=85Current dream is to be the first poet in space -- <heavy sigh> I do
hereby volunteer. <A-heh> (Maybe if Bill coughs up that billion=85)
--
Explore the Alien View?
http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/arecibo/46/
"I cleave the heavens, and soar to the infinite. What others see from
afar, I leave far behind me." - Giordano Bruno, while burning at the
fundamentalist's stake, and now a bubble of expanding expression.
=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=B1=
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Government or Social Harassment REPORT - Presently, "ZERO" Personal
HARASSMENT; however, the harassment index is infinite for each of us.
Consider the pollution of the ether waves where I've made my own
contribution?